


Night Moves

by Ginger_Ninja_405



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Mild Angst, OC's long-term pining, Rating will be updated as needed, Romance, clyde is a good soft boi, clyde's southern accent, insecurities from both sides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginger_Ninja_405/pseuds/Ginger_Ninja_405
Summary: Clyde, lonely and touch-starved from years of rejection following his military injury, becomes enraptured by a young woman from his youth who has been pining over him for as long as she can remember.Rating will be updates as is applicable, and this will be Explicit by the time we reach the final chapter :)
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Original Character(s), Clyde Logan/Original Female Character(s), Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Clyde fic, and only my second Adam Driver character fic, but I'm enjoying writing it, and I hope you will enjoy reading it!

Clyde Logan stared in silence around the main room of the Duck Tape Bar & Grill where he served drinks, observing a familiar version of the same scene he saw every night. Rowdy voices with thick southern accents filled the air, couples sat at smaller tables, enjoying each other's company, noisy pool balls glided forcefully across a felt-covered pool table. The only abnormality was a group of cackling women sitting around one of the larger tables, consuming decidedly 'girly' drinks and looking up occasionally from their mass conversation to laugh at some aspect of the bar, occasionally himself. This part wasn't new. Throughout what felt like his entire life, people had found things about him to mock, but his stump of an arm had certainly became a crowd favorite ever since he'd had his hand blown off at the very end of his military tour. He'd spent his life trying to ignore the laughing and jeering, and most nights he managed just fine. Perhaps he was a tad oversensitive tonight. Maybe it was the fact that the jabs directed at aspects of his appearance he couldn't control were coming from a group of pretty-on-the-outside young women, but he needed to get out, if only for a few minutes, and get some fresh air.

Glancing around once more to make sure no patrons were approaching the bar, he stepped out into the main area of the room and through the front entrance. Clyde let the heavy doors slam behind him as he took a few steps onto the porch-like area of the building, but halted in his tracks when he saw that he wasn't alone. Disheartened, his gaze fell upon a young woman, sitting on the wooden steps a few feet beyond him. _Well there's the other one,_ he thought, looking around to see if there was anyone else he'd missed. He hadn't spoken a word to her or even seen her face properly, but he was sure she had entered the establishment with the other young women earlier, the ones he'd come outside to escape. _Damn it all, I can't just get past her, I can't go back inside, what do I..._ his thoughts seemed to pause mid-stream as he caught a whiff of something in the air, something that smelled faintly of apples, crisp and pleasant. Whatever it was, it was much more appealing than the sickly sweet perfume that seemed to permeate the air around the table where those other young ladies sat, cackling inside. Clyde closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to get another hit of that light, fruity scent when the sound of a voice directly in front of him brought him back down to earth.

“-in your way-”

“What?” Clyde blinked a few times in confusion, before looking down to peer at the face that had turned to greet him.

“I'm in your way, I'm sorry. I guess I should fine a seat that's an actual...seat,” she looked up, directly into his warm hazel eyes and he stared right back into her eyes, perhaps a bit too intensely from the way she quickly scrambled to her feet.

“No, that's...you're not in my way. I was just, um...just needin' some air is all.” When she didn't respond, just continued to stare up at him, he took a step back, unconsciously hiding his false arm from view. She didn't look like her group of friends, she wasn't all dressed up in hot pink and made up like a doll, she looked like she didn't belong in their company at all. “You don't really look like your friends,” he finally managed, his West Virginian accent heavy as always, but somehow charming to the ears of the young woman who stared back up at him.

“They're not my friends,” she corrected, looking away to slip her phone and headphones back into her purse. “My sister and her gang of hyenas are celebrating her engagement to whatever creep she's been dating, I was peer pressured into tagging along.” She watched as relief visibly washed across his face, he clearly wasn't a fan of the group of so-called ladies either.

“Hyenas...like in that Disney movie with the lions?,” he asked, and his normally harsh look softened when she smiled and looked away to laugh softly.

“Yes, just like that, except less humorous and more hateful. I hope they didn't drive you out here, I know they had a tendency to bully people.”

“Nah, I'm used to it, I guess-”

“I know,” she interrupted, rising to her feet, still a full head shorter than him,” I remember.” Clyde's dark brows knitted together in confusion, and she continued, “You don't remember me, do you?”

“Well, I...I guess not. I usually got a good memory for faces,” he answered, trying to think back, searching.

“I guess it was a long time ago,” she finally offered, leaning against the wood post, waiting for his eyes to return to hers. “You went to high school with my older brother. I was barely in middle school when you two finally graduated. You went off to be a soldier and he...did some stupid shit and went to jail.”

It was as if a light bulb had visibly turned on above his head, and a smile Clyde found particularly adorable tugged at her mouth when he spoke her name aloud in a triumphant voice. “Wow, you, uh...,” he fought the urge to look her up and down,” you sure grew up.”

“I suppose it would be strange if I didn't,” she countered, and he grinned sheepishly as he turned away.

“Yeah, I guess it would,” he admitted as he looked back through the see-through portion of the doors. “Can I get you a drink or somethin'? I don't remember you orderin' nothin' when y'all came in.”

“I, um...I actually don't drink,” she answered, and he looked back to her increasingly familiar face.

“Well don't tell nobody, that kinda thinkin' might get ya kicked out of the south,” he responded, but there was humor in his voice.

“Right? That's why I moved away for years, I just didn't fit in, sober minority and all.”

“Is that why?” he asked with a smile, starting to wish she had stayed instead of moved. “Are you, uh...are you stayin' now, or are you just in town for your sister.”

“You seem awfully curious,” she answered, and his eyes left hers to look down at his boots instead.

“Well...You're s'posed to be able to talk to your bartender. We're like them therapists, 'cept we pour drinks 'stead of writin' 'scripts.”

“But you haven't tended me anything,” she said, a smile in her voice as he looked back again toward the bar, feeling his face start to flush.

“Well...how 'bout a...Jack and Coke, without the Jack,” he offered, and he heard the rubber souls of her canvas shoes move over the wood planks beneath them.

“Are you still going to charge me for the whiskey?” she asked, and he looked back down toward her, noting how much closer she was than before, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Well, 'course I am. Gotta keep this place afloat.”

* * *

“You know you lost your accent?” Clyde inquired as he busied his hand with wiping the bar down with an old rag.

“Of course I know, I worked hard to lose my accent,” the young woman across from him answered as she stared into the dark, bubbly cola in her glass. When his hand stilled, she looked up to see him staring at her, contemplatively. “I moved out of the south on purpose too, Clyde, and I don't like being made fun of either. People look at you strange when they aren't used to you sounding, well...” she looked around the room and gestured with one hand, “sounding the way we do.”

“So I take it you ain't stayin' after all,” was his response, attempting to keep his tone as even as possible, and not to give away his disappointment.

“I'm...I haven't decided yet. Big cities can be nice, and I haven't missed this summer heat, but I'm lucky enough to have a job where I can work from home, so I can just about live wherever.” She looked up toward him when he turned to pour a shot of clear liquor for another patron, taking in the site of his tall frame, broad shoulders, that impossibly thick, dark hair that she yearned so desperately to drag her fingers through. She watched as he moved swiftly around the bar area as customers suddenly started to pile on around the edges, every movement of his hand seemingly calculated and purposeful, making the best use he could of the one he had left, noticed how he didn't try (and fail) to hide his arm in front of the other customers as he worked. When he finally turned back to her when the crowd had subsided, he seemed to try to obscure it again.

“Why do keep trying to hide your arm from me?” she asked, and his cheeks flushed just enough to be noticeable.

“I'm not,” he uttered simply, quickly, defiantly. “And you never answered my question.”

She looked into his eyes and he tried to hold her gaze but ended up looking down as he so often did when he was uncomfortable. “You're right, I didn't. I might stay, if I find a good reason to.”

“Well,” Clyde began, still looking at the heavily varnished wood in his line of sight, “what makes for a good reason?” He finally lifted his eyes once more, greeted by a soft smile that made his stomach feel fluttery.

“You have more customers.”

* * *

The hours rolled on, and the bar slowly emptied until only 2 people where left inside. Clyde was almost hesitant to reach out and shake the shoulder of the young woman, bent over and using her crossed arms as a pillow as she slept silently against the counter of the bar. She looked so peaceful and soft, and he had the feeling that if he woke her up, she'd leave and he'd never see her again. Her kindness he'd felt through their conversations throughout the night had managed to get so deep under his skin, so quickly. Even though mid-thirties felt a little old for crushes, he clearly had not outgrown them. Finally concluding that he didn't really have much choice, he reached out toward her sleeve-covered shoulder, drew his hand back slightly, and then with a sigh continued forward and gave her a little shake. She grumbled something incoherent, but otherwise did not stir. He clicked his tongue and tried again, cupping her whole shoulder this time in his large, remaining hand and giving her a more vigorous shake.

“What?” she sighed, hiding her face between her crossed arms, away from the lights of the bar. When she didn't receive a response, she lifted her face to look up at the man before her, and her memory kicked in. “What time is it,” she nearly whispered as she slowly sat up straight, pushing her hair back over her shoulders and straightening her shirt.

“Nearly three in the mornin'. You looked so peaceful, I didn't wanna wake you up 'til I had too.”

“I can't believe I fell asleep on the...” she began, embarrassed, and turned around in the swiveling seat to look for her obnoxious sister and her vile little friends, but found herself alone save for the man behind the counter. “Where are...where are they?”

Clyde's arms shot up in a surrendering pose as he took a few steps back, “I made sure they got home safe, I got 'em one of them Ubers. I even made sure it had a lady driver. I got a message sayin' they got home and everythin'. I think you, uh...”he lifted her purse that she had not even noticed was missing from behind the bar and presented it to her, “I think one of 'em sent you a message.” She reached out and grasped the bag, still confused, reaching inside to pull out her phone.

“Cute,” she muttered, shaking her head irritably as she read the text, “real cute.” Before he could even ask what it said, she turned the phone in her hand and presented it to him, ruffling her hair in irritation as he began to read it aloud.

“Thanks for passin' out, bi-...well that's just rude.”

“She had the driver take them to my house.”

“Your house-”

“It's a rental. God, they're probably wrecking the place. I bet I come home to the smell of-”

“I gotta place,” Clyde interrupted, not even thinking about what he was saying. “I don't think you wanna go home to that, I got a couch. It's pretty comfy.” When she looked back at him apprehensively, he realized how strange and forward his words must have sounded, and he tried again. “Or, you know, my sister Mellie, she lives real close too, I slept on her couch for a while after I moved outta me an' my brother's trailer, her couch is pretty comfy too.”

“Do you think she's still awake?” she finally asked, the idea of sleeping over at Clyde's home awfully tempting, maybe too tempting.

“Well,” Clyde thought out loud as he pulled out his own phone and stared at the time on the screen, “I guess maybe not.” He almost sounded defeated as he spoke, as if he had let her down. He watched as she slipped a hand back into her purse to feel around for her keys, still deciding. “I'm real sorry, I guess I didn't think your sister would-”

“My keys.”

“Your-”

“That little...she took my keys, she took my house keys which means she took my car key. I swear, one of us must have been adopted, she is so...,” she was trying with difficulty not to swear in front of this clearly kind-hearted man in front of her. “I guess...do you mind giving me a ride.”

Her eyes widened at her choice of words when she saw the blush creep onto his cheeks, but he tried to play it off, looking down and digging for his own keys in his pocket. “Of course, that's no problem. So, uh...Mellie's, or...?”

“Yeah, let's try Mellie's first. I guess if she's not up...well, that couch of yours better be extra comfortable.”


	2. Chapter 2

“ I'm awful sorry 'bout this,” Clyde spoke with a sigh in his voice as he drove away from his sister's empty house, having knocked on the door and every window without success. “She's usually home this late.” He absolutely was not about to complain about the attractive young woman next to him staying the night in his house, but he did feel guilt over the situation. He should have woken her up so much early, this was all his fault-

“It's alright...I'm pretty sure if you were going to do something uncouth, you would have already done it by now,” she spoke quietly as she looked out the window closest to her, watching what scenery was visible under the sparse lights.

“Uncouth...” Clyde mumbled to himself. “Is that like...gettin' handsy?”

She smiled to herself and tried not to laugh, still looking away, “I guess that's one way to put it.”

“ Well, you should know that I'm not that kinda man,” he stated firmly, keeping his eyes on the road, a bit flustered.

“I believe you,” she finally looked toward him, and her smile fell at the sight of the frown on his face. “Hey,” her voice was soft as she reached out and rested her hand on his forearm closest to her, the one not swallowed in plastic, giving him a gently squ0eeze of reassurance, “I believe you, I promise. Do you really think I would have set foot in this car if I thought you were capable of that?” His expression softened, eyes not leaving the road, but the frown on his face slowly dissipated.

After several minutes of silence, Clyde finally turned off the road and drove up a cracked driveway centered in front of a small house, just large enough for one person. “Well, uh...this is it,” Clyde gestured with his real hand in the direction of the structure, staring at it with some pride.

“It's looks nice,” came a soft voice beside him, and he turned to her with a proud smile pulling at his lips.

“I came into a little money recently, this is the first real house I've lived in...in I don't rightly remember how long. Feels pretty good bein' on my own, not havin' to share a trailer with my brother. Now don't get me wrong, I love my brother, but...” he paused when he noticed her staring at him, taking in his words with a kind smile on her face, leaning back against the headrest as she listened to him. It occurred to him in that moment that he had probably spoken more words that night than he typically did throughout an average week. It just felt so easy, somehow.

“But what?” she asked when his abrupt silence persisted.

“But...,” he'd lost his train of thought, and he began to feel foolish, but she reached over to give his arm another light squeeze and began to open the car door. “Uh, actually...why don't you give me a few minutes to clean up, it's kinda a mess in there, I wasn't 'spectin' comp'ny.” He quickly grabbed the key out of the ignition and slid out, striding quickly up the driveway toward the front door, and slipping inside. _I should have opened her door for her,_ he admonished himself as he shuffled around the living room, collecting empty beer bottles and dirty clothes, making sure to hide any adult magazines that might be lying around. “Can't let her see these,” he mumbled to himself as he stepped into his bedroom and stuffed the magazines between his mattress and box spring.

“What is it I'm not supposed to see?” he heard a feminine voice behind him, and he almost tripped himself as he swiveled around toward the source. When he didn't answer, she smirked, looking around the room, strewn with dirty clothes, but otherwise fairly clean. “You know they have porn for free all over the internet, right?”

“That wasn't...I don't...” flustered, feeling almost as if he'd been caught in the middle of viewing said images and videos, he struggled for words to change the subject. He wasn't used to having women in his home, the situation was strange enough without this line of questioning.

She finally showed him mercy, changing the subject abruptly. “Anyway...do you have something I can sleep in? Something clean?”

Clyde exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and stepped across the room to the open closet, shuffling through t-shirts to find something with as few holes as possible. “I don't know what you'd like, but you're welcome to any...thing,” he stepped a little out of the way as she slid in beside him, thumbing through hangers to find something long and loose. He could just barely smell the apple-y scent that had first caught his attention so many hours before, but it still smelled pleasant on her, soft and inviting. She finally settled on a faded but soft band tee, pulling it off the hanger and holding it against her torso to judge the length.

“Thank you,” she suddenly mumbled as she slid the hanger back onto the metal bar.

“It's just a shirt-”

“No, thank you for everything. You didn't have to do anything that you did tonight, and...you really helped me out a lot.”

“Ah, it was...it was nothin', I like your comp'ny,” he wanted to see her eyes, but she continued to stare down at the old cotton shirt in her hands. “I hope you won't think I'm bein'...what was that word you used?”

“Uncouth?” she answered, her voice soft as she looked up to meet his hazel eyes.

“Yeah, I hope you won't think I'm bein' uncouth, but I'm sorta glad that, uh...that it turned out this way.” Clyde's eyes slid closed as he felt both of her hands reach up and slide through his hair, brushing the thick, dark locks out of his face.

“It's even softer than it looks,” she whispered, and he gave a wordless sigh of contentment in response. How many years had it been since someone had touched him with any level of affection, how many rejections of all kinds had he suffered because of his perceived physical disability? His heart felt like it was falling as she slipped her hands away from his hair again, his eyes slowly opening, readying himself for another spurning, but she managed to surprise him once more as her arms slipped around him, her nails scratching lightly at his back through the layers of shirts he wore, her body pressed so flush to his own. With some hesitation, he wrapped first his complete arm, followed by his permanently damaged one, around her slender waist, innumerous questions flooding his thoughts.

“I don't know if I'm gonna be able to sleep if I can't kiss you,” he finally managed, his voice soft, his anxiety of being rebuked bubbling just under the surface. Clyde's hazel eyes watched with rapt attention as she withdrew her arms that encircled him and lifted her hands instead to the collar of his button-down shirt, tugging gently as she rose up on her tip toes. A curtain of his own dark hair fell around the bartender's face as he leaned down to carefully accept the kiss that was offered to him.

* * *

The kiss, as it turned out, did not help Clyde to sleep in the slightest. His imposing figure tossed and turned throughout the night, only gaining about an hour of sleep at a time between long bouts of wakefulness. The fear that he would hear the young woman in the next room gather her things and disappear into the night without notice stayed at the forefront of his thoughts. The idea that he had imagined all of this and that she would turn out to not exist at all if he let himself sleep too long felt less realistic, but still nagged at him a bit as well. The sun was peaking over the horizon by the time he finally gave up on proper rest and hauled himself out of bed to take a shower and calm his nerves, creeping as quietly as possible through the living room where the girl slept to reach the bathroom, unable to help but pause when he saw her, willing himself to continue walking when he'd assured himself she wasn't going to vanish if he looked away.

Fifteen minutes worth of steamy hot water later, Clyde stepped out of the shower and began his morning routine, brushing his teeth, preforming maintenance on his facial hair to make sure it stayed the way he liked it, running a comb through his thick, dark locks – still wet and heavy from the shower. He was relieved to find his visitor still asleep as he padded back through the front room to retrieve his clothes and his prosthetic. Clyde was not in any hurry to let her see what was beneath the already off-putting plastic, the bane of his non-existent love life since he had returned to West Virginia from overseas for the last time. His damp hair fell over his face as he slumped down onto his bed, staring at the flesh-toned plastic appendage, an updated version of his original prosthetic, the black plastic arm he'd received after being released from incarceration initially helpful but overall even more unpalatable to the opposite sex than his previous one. His anxieties began to creep into his thoughts all over again, but they were fortunately tuned out by the growling of his stomach and the realization that he'd never bothered to eat after they had arrived back at his home last night. Clyde quickly dragged on a t-shirt from the closet, slipped on some pajama bottoms over his boxer-briefs (another personal upgrade he'd made after his illegal increase in funds), and headed for the kitchen.

* * *

The sounds and smells emitting from the kitchen caused the young woman on the sofa to stir, vision unfocused as she blinked her eyes sleepily and rolled over onto her stomach to look on to the source of noise and delicious scents. Through the doorway at the end of the room furthest from her, she could see the back of Clyde's body as he stood before the front of the stove, navigating multiple pans with his single usable hand, manipulating a crackling mass of bacon and tossing about several fluffy chunks of scrambled eggs. Dragging herself into a sitting position on the couch, she yawned silently and stretched away the stiffness of her body, rising to her feet and stepping quietly toward the bathroom to rub some toothpaste over her teeth with a finger in the absence of a toothbrush. Checking her reflection in the water-spotted mirror, she splashed her face a few times to rid herself of the grains of sleep in the corners of her eyes, thankful that she had (as usual) chosen not to wear make up, and combing her hair out with her fingers to drag out the tangles before she was satisfied with her appearance. Giving the borrowed shirt she wore a tug in an effort to keep herself as covered as possible short of dragging her jeans back on, she stepped out of the bathroom and took quiet steps toward the source of all the commotion. 

Clyde was pulled out of his little world of fluffy yellow eggs and bubbling bacon grease by the sound of his guest's fist wrapping lightly on the door frame that led into the kitchen. He looked back over his shoulder and couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips as she closed the distance between them, sidling up beside him to inspect his cooking skills. “I sure hope you're hungry,” Clyde managed, a little distracted by her closeness and the way she seemed to fit herself so perfectly against him as he lifted his maimed arm to make room for her directly at his side.

“Everything looks delicious,” she answered encouragingly, darting her hand out to a plate of cooked bacon to pick up a piece and take a bite. “Mmm, this is so good. I hate half-cooked bacon with the fat all soft and gross, this is-” she interrupted herself to take another bite, “this is great.” She finished off the piece of meat and wiped the grease away with a towel lying on the counter, and snaked her arm around Clyde's waist as he continued to work on the last of what was left on the stove top. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Clyde was quite content with the feeling of her pressed so close to him, so much that he didn't really want to answer, but his silence apparently lasted to long, and he tensed as her nails started to scrape lightly at his side in an attempt to tickle a response out of him. “Hey, that's...that's dangerous, I don't want you gettin' popped with grease or nothin'.” When she didn't voice a response, and he looked down to see the ' _So tell me what to do, then'_ look on her face, he sighed internally at the eminent loss of touch and looked toward the refrigerator. “There's a can of orange juice in the freezer if you wanna make it.” Clyde felt his shoulders slump a little as she slipped out from beneath his arm and stepped across the kitchen to get to work, pulling a canister of frozen orange concentrate from the freezer an d hunting down a pitcher to begin turning it into juice. 

* * *

“You don't eat like this every morning, do you” Clyde's lovely guest inquired as she worked her way through a plate of eggs, bacon and buttered toast.

“No, it's usually cereal for me. I haven't cooked breakfast like this since...since I lived with my brother, I 'spose,” he answered thoughtfully as he wiped oils from his hand onto a paper towel. “I was hopin' to make a good impression, I guess,” he stared down at the table as he spoke. “Maybe I'm just puttin' off havin' to take you home.”

“Clyde?” her soft voice brushed his ears, but he kept his eyes on his plate, hesitant to hear what she might say next as he spilled his emotions in a way that wasn't exactly normal for him. When he saw her hand out of the corner of his eye reach forward to gently cup his prosthetic hand, he finally lifted his gaze to look upon her. “Clyde, I...,” she looked conflicted, not sure if she should admit what she wanted to say or not, but his obvious insecurities made it feel necessary. “Clyde, I've had a crush on you since...well, before I even started liking boys. I only moved away because you went off to war, and I wouldn't have gone home with anyone last night if they weren't you. This,” she indicated his plastic hand, giving it a gently squeeze that he wished he could feel as he looked to where she indicated, “ does not bother me. I wish you could feel comfortable around me without this, to be honest, but I'm hopeful that we'll get there.”

Clyde was at a loss for words. As another soft hand reached out carefully, he grasped it gently with his own unscathed hand and interwove his large fingers with her slender ones. His mind reeled with what felt like a hundred different emotions, excitement at the situation that was materializing, fear that he would do something to screw it up-

“-want to be my-”

“Hmm?” Clyde suddenly looked up, his mind so busy that he'd barely heard her.

She smiled to herself, shook her head softly, took a breath and looked back up into his hazel eyes that now seemed to watch her with such intensity.

“Clyde, do you think you might...want to be my boyfriend?”

Clyde had never responded to a question in the affirmative so swiftly in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always deeply appreciated :3


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a few days since his life had taken such a sudden upswing in luck, but as soon as Clyde had waved goodbye to his new paramour after driving her home the morning after she'd slept overnight on his couch, he had immediately wanted to see her again. He had hoped to have been invited inside, but she'd assured him that it wasn't going to be a pleasant visit with her rotten sister, and the possibility of her sister's equally vile friends, still inside. They had, of course, exchanged phone numbers, and had been in contact since that morning, but Clyde more than anything wished to see her again. He'd spent so much time since his honorable discharge from the military virtually alone, romantically, but he hadn't quite realized just how touch-starved he'd been all that time until he'd finally received a glimpse of what he'd been missing. Of course, over the years, his sister Mellie had tried a few times to set him up with clients, but it never lasted more than a single date, and even those dates never seemed to end well. Under his stoic facade, a volcano of wants, needs and emotions were bubbling just under the surface, pent up for so long and nearly thought to be forgotten. Clyde had hoped to see his new girl and that she might visit the bar again the evening of the morning they parted, but it had been a Friday, and he knew he'd be busy all night, with no time to pay her the attention he wished to. Saturday had of course been a very similar situation, and now that Sunday had rolled around, the bar open but virtually dead, he found he could not wait any longer. With a feeling of resolution and contained excitement, he'd ushered the patrons out of the bar much earlier than usual and closed up hours before the usual time. This southern boy was on a mission, and he wasn't going to be held back by something silly like the proper hours of operation...

* * *

Clyde knocked for the second time on a glass screen door, clutching the best bouquet of flowers he could find on short notice as he stood on the porch outside of his new girlfriend's house. He'd wanted to surprise her so he hadn't texted or called to let her know he was coming over, but now he was starting to regret that decision. There were lights on inside, and her car was in the driveway, but as he knocked a third time, he was again greeted by silence. Starting to feel self-conscious about the whole idea, Clyde opened the screen door and rapped his fist on the wooden front door, and almost dropped the flowers as he tried to reach out and grab the doorknob as the large panel of wood pushed in and opened slightly at the persistence of his knock. More hesitation fell over him, but his ambition seemed to tap the feeling back down as he carefully applied more pressure to the clearly unlocked door and pushed it open a bit more, glancing around through the opening and seeing an empty living room. “Well,” Clyde muttered to himself as he looked down to the flowers tucked in the crook of his left elbow, “can't turn back now.” With a deep inhale of breath, Clyde pushed the door open as quietly as he could manage and stepped inside.

The room that greeted him was empty aside from himself, as he had suspected, and Clyde resisted the urge to look around and explore all the décor, the various media, the framed images on the walls, and instead stood very still and silent, listening for something, anything that indicated life. A small metallic clash reached his ears, and he looked in its direction, determining it must be the kitchen, and his feet began to carry him in said direction, almost of their own accord. As he stepped closer, he started to register another sound outside the occasional clang of dishes, and as Clyde finally reached the doorway to the kitchen, he stilled.  _Well no wonder,_ Clyde mused as he took in the sight and sounds of the young woman who had laid claim to his thoughts, standing with her back facing him in nothing but a pair of underwear decorated in some kind of graphic design, and a racerback tank top that made it clear she wore nothing underneath. The curious sounds he'd heard were that of her quiet singing, following along to whatever music was emitting from the earbuds whose cords framed her face, plugged into her phone a few feet away, in constant danger of being knocked to the floor as she washed her dishes left over from dinner. 

“ _ I never felt alone...until I met you” _

Clyde knew he should step back outside, call her phone again and try to get her attention without panicking her with the shock of turning around to find someone in her home she thought she was alone in.

“ _ I'm alright on my own...and then I met you” _

Clyde knew he shouldn't be staring at her in secret as she swayed gently to the music she sang along to, dressed in so little, exposed to his wandering eyes.

“ _And I'd know what to do if I just knew what's coming”_

Clyde nearly dropped the flowers in his hand as the lovely creature before him turned away from the sink and gave a startled yelp as she finally caught sight of him. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the sh-...,” she took a deep breath in and out, steadying herself as she stared at Clyde, “W-...what are you doing here?” she finally managed, exasperated.

“I was hopin'...” Clyde began, staring at an invisible spot on the floor, “...I was just hopin' to see you. The bar was practic'ly dead, so I closed early an' I wanted to surprise you. I didn' mean to scare you, I tried knockin' on the door a couple-a times.” He swallowed and waited for a response, but received none, and ventured further, “I tried callin' but there weren't no answer-” Clyde became silent as she began to step forward, continuing to stare at nothing as she approached.

“Maybe, next time, just wait in the living room?” there was a twinge of humor in her voice, and he finally looked up to meet her eyes, perhaps even prettier than he remembered.

“I, um...I think I'll go do that,” he suddenly mumbled, his vision falling to the floor once more as it again occurred to him how little clothing she was currently wearing. He began to turn away, but her voice seemed to pull him back.

“Are those for me?” she asked gently as she reached out toward his full hand.

“Oh, yeah, I...there weren't many options, I wish they were nicer,” he uttered, but as he looked down to her and saw the soft smile on her lips, the appreciation written all over her face that had no need of vocalization, he felt a shred of his confidence return. When it occurred to him that she looked as if she wanted to embrace him, he took a few steps back, trying his best to not notice how much of her skin was on display, “I'll uh...I'll be in here, let you get dressed.”

“Hey, come here,” came her soft voice, almost a whisper as she reached out and gently gripped the sleeve of the button-down he wore. Clyde paused mid-step and turned back to her, immediately felt her arms wrap around him, felt some of the softest parts of her press against him. “That was really sweet of you. I don't even remember the last time someone gave me flowers.”

“I'm sorry, I'll get you nicer ones next-” his words of apology were cut off by the kiss she stole as she slid her fingers into his soft hair and pulled him down to her level without resistance.

The kiss was brief but it brought a wave of comfort over Clyde as he reveled in the soft touch of her lips, pressed against his. “Why don't you go sit down, give me a few minutes?” Clyde took the opportunity to sneak one more kiss before she let him go, and he made his way back to the living room, taking in a few deep breaths as he walked.

A few minutes passed as the bartender sat quietly on the couch, staring at his hands, real and prosthetic. He hadn't even given real thought to how they might spend this late evening, the wish to see her had been the only thing driving him. Of course, he had a few ideas of what he would like to do, but all of those ideas of course felt unrealistic at this very early stage of their relationship. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he was no longer alone in the room until he felt something very cold against his arm. He jerked slightly and looked to the icy cold bottle offered to him, “Thought you said you didn't drink,” he responded to the beer in mild confusion as he popped off the lid and brought it to his lips.

“I don't. I bought them for you,” she answered, and he drew the bottle from his lips. “I know it's not exactly flowers, but I wanted to have something around that might make you more comfortable.” His lips twitched into a smile as he looked up to her and watched as she stepped around the table in front of the sofa to settle down next to him.

“You...you didn't hafta do that,” he answered as he lifted his damaged arm when he saw she clearly wanted to nestle up close beside him. He couldn't even remember the last time a woman had been so comfortable around him, had wanted to press in so close to him. He gave a soft chuckle as a risque thought entered his mind, and he inquired with humor in his voice, “You sure you ain't trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?”

“I didn't buy  _ that  _ many beers,” she answered as she gently stroked what little flesh was exposed of the damaged arm around her, “and I would hope I wouldn't have to get you drunk to...not that I would take advantage of you...would you stop looking at me like that?!” she huffed as his kind smile turned into an uncharacteristic grin.

“Sorry,” he answered, though the chuckle that preceded the apology didn't particularly make it sound as if he was, “just not used to...it's just been a long time.”

“A long time since...” she pressed, and she saw the hesitation on his face as he contemplated his answer. “Wow,” she sighed, and he looked into her eyes in confusion, feeling a little uneasy. He knew what 'wow's like that meant. “Women around here must really be as shallow and stupid as I remember.” To this statement, he chose not to respond. He couldn't bring himself to really blame the opposite sex for finding his injury so off-putting, but it was also flattering to hear her speak this way about him, as if he were something special that others had missed out on. 

* * *

With his visit being so unplanned and last minute, the two of them settled on the simple act of watching a movie to pass the time, just enjoying each other's company wordlessly as their bodies moved closer and closer to each other over the run time of the film. By the time the credits began to roll, there was no empty space between them, Clyde on his back with a few overfilled pillows between himself and the arm of the sofa to prop his body up somewhat, one foot stretched all the way to the other end of the couch and the other settled on the floor below his bent knee, his girlfriend's back against his front, her head lying to the side against his chest, her lower body situated between his parted legs. Clyde's good arm lay across her collarbone, her slender fingers gently gripping his appendage, relaxed and at ease against him. As names scrolled across the screen, Clyde began to wonder what would happen next, if she would call it a night, give him a goodbye kiss, and part ways with him for the evening, or if the impromptu date would perhaps proceed another way. Truthfully, he would be more than happy to receive that kiss, and he was content to follow her wishes, but he would be lying if he told himself that was all he wanted. He was drawn out of his thoughts as he felt one of the hands holding onto to his arm release him to reach out and stop the movie, leaving the room suddenly quite dark as the screen became completely black. Silence joined the darkness as the two figures lay together, both of them very aware of the closeness of their bodies.

Clyde was almost afraid to speak, as if they were under a spell, and his voice would break that spell and force their bodies apart. He closed his eyes as he felt the fingers around his forearm release him and extend upwards over her own head, her digits finding his thick hair again and combing through it gently. “Did you like it?” he heard her soft voice whisper in the darkness.

“Yeah, feels nice,” he mumbled back, his body becoming relaxed again, sandwiched between her and the sofa.

“I meant the movie,” she corrected, giving a tuft of his hair a light tug.

“Oh...it was okay. I don't really like scary movies, I guess, gave me nightmares when I was a kid.” He felt disappointment when her fingers stopped moving. When she remained quiet for several seconds, he started to backtrack, “I mean, it was okay, I didn't not like it, evil little kids ain't as creepy as evil little dolls-”

“So why didn't you say something?” Clyde sighed quietly as he felt her fingers draw away from him, and he closed his eyes against the darkness when he felt her lift her body off of his. “Clyde?”

“I guess...I just wanted to watch whatever you wanted to watch. I kinda barged in on you, after all,” he was almost afraid to open his eyes, to see her silhouette against what little electric light had began to pour in through the windows from outside.

“You certainly did,” she answered finally with a smile in her voice he could hear, reaching out to gently grasp his unscathed hand. “We'll watch something you like next time.”

“Somethin' with explosions?” he asked as he finally opened his eyes to see what he could of her in the darkness.

“Absolutely,” she responded, and he watched as she reached up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear.

“Lots a' cursin'?” he continued, and she shook her head a little before confirming _'Sure'._ “And naked ladies-”

“Nice try,” she smacked his chest lightly as he chuckled aloud.

“ Jokin',” he admitted as he looked up to her again. “Honest, I'm happy to watch whatever you wanna watch, long as I get to be with you.”

“I don't...” she began, and paused for longer than he was comfortable with before she began again, “I don't want you to do anything that...that you don't want to do.”

Clyde's brows knitted together in confusion, and he watched as she began to push her body further away from him. Without thinking about what he was doing, Clyde sat up and reached out both his arms, his right hand carefully gripping her waist, his artificial left one resting awkwardly against her side. “What's that s'posed to mean?” _I did something stupid, I said something stupid, what did I-_

“I know that I...” she swallowed hard and started again, “I know I sprung the whole 'boyfriend' thing on you really fast the other day and I know you've been alone a long time, and...I-”

“Stop that,” he finally cut her off, surprising her when he closed his arms around her and drew her back toward him, leaving his left arm wrapped around her as he brought his good hand up to her face, his heart falling when he felt the wet track of tears on her cheek. “I may be a lil' lonely, but I ain't desperate. I would'na said yes if I didn't mean it.” Clyde wiped his thumb carefully below one of her eyes, then the other, gently brushing the tears away, tightening his incomplete arm around her to bring her closer. “Now I don't rightly remember the last time I made a girl cry, and I sure don't wanna do it again. Y' don't need to be insecure with me. I might not been carryin' a torch for you long as you been for me,” he continued, admittedly still quite a flattering feeling for him, “but I liked you from the minute I saw you. Don't see that changin', neither.”

There was silence between the two for several moments after, the cool plastic of Clyde's arm pressed against the young woman's back as she stared into his eyes, surrounded by darkness. With caution in her voice at the thought of what she was about to ask of him, she swallowed and finally spoke. “Clyde...I don't want you to be insecure with me, either.” When he began to ask what she meant, she surprised him as she pressed her lips against his, soft and full, his facial hair tickling her just a bit. Clyde's body seemed to sink into the pillows behind him as he wrapped his intact arm around her to match his damaged appendage. “Clyde,” she whispered as she pulled back a few inches, creating the smallest distance between them, “I don't want there to be barriers between us. I don't want you to...hide behind a piece of plastic.”

Clyde didn't respond immediately, he simply lie against the sofa pillows, his arms twined around her, hesitant. “It ain't a pretty sight.”

“Good thing it's so dark, then,” she quipped immediately, and he sighed a little in defeat. “I'm not asking you to leave it off when we're in public, I get that you're sensitive about it. But I...I want to feel _you_. Not something that the government issued you.”

Clyde couldn't deny, at least internally, that he wanted to feel her too. He wanted to feel her soft skin against his, and even he could admit that if the situation were reversed, he'd want to enjoy her company without the limitation of a prosthetic. “Okay...,” she seemed to perk up in the dark as he stated the simple word. “I'll take it off, if...” he paused, wondering how much he was pushing his luck, “...if you take somethin' off too.”

The silence in the room felt heavy as he waited for her response, hesitation that he'd perhaps said too much bubbling inside, even more so when he felt her back press against his arms, parting them to allow her free movement again. “I'm s-”

He was quieted by the delicate finger that pressed gently against his full lips, and he watched her silhouetted form in the dark as she took his maimed arm in both her hands and pushed up carefully at the long sleeve of his button-down shirt, her slender fingers finding the buckles of his prosthetic and slowly unfastening them. She felt him tense when the buckles were completely undone and she gave a gentle pull, dragging the plastic cautiously from his forearm and placing it carefully on the table next to the flowers he'd brought her. He wondered if she would lay her hands on his ugly old scars, feared the thought almost as much as he did her seeing it, but she lifted her hands up above her head and he watched as she dragged the band from around her ponytail and let her thick, wavy hair fall all around her. “That...that aint exactly what I had in mind,” he mumbled, a bit of a pout in his voice that she laughed softly in response to.

“So...take off something else,” she answered, Clyde's brows raising in unison at her words. His eyes not leaving the shape of her form in the darkness, he lifted his right arm to his chest and began to carefully unbutton the line of plastic disks that ran down the middle of his torso, his large fingers moving quickly and easily from so much practice. When he'd finished, he dragged his body up off the couch, his chest inches from pressing against hers as he worked to get the sleeves down his arms, tossing the shirt away, onto the floor.

“Your turn,” he whispered, and watched expectantly as she drew her body away from his and climbed off the couch to a standing position. Clyde swung his legs over the edge of the couch and relaxed his back against the plush surface of the back of the sofa as he watched her with anticipation, her body surrounded on all sides by the electric light pouring in from the street lights outside as her fingers gripped the edges of the sleep shorts she wore, bending over a little to push them down her thighs and kicking them to the side when they fell to her feet. Clyde couldn't say for sure what he expected, what with there being so few options of what to remove, but he was certainly satisfied with the results. Letting the excitement of all the thoughts running through his mind get the best of him, his hand darted to the bottom edge of his t-shirt, and it was obscuring his face before she could get a word out.

“Clyde! Clyde, calm down, I...I know you're excited and it's been a while, it's been a while for me too, but...I'm not...I'm not ready to...we're not having sex tonight,” she finally managed, half anxious at his response, half trying not to laugh at the fact that his hand still held his shirt all the way over his head. Clyde dragged the t-shirt the rest of the way off with more care, setting it to the side this time instead of tossing it away. “I hope you're not disappointed,” she started again, her voice much quieter, and she watched as his hand extended out to hers, directing her toward him, carefully crawling onto his lap and straddling him as she felt his arms wrap around her again.

“This ain't exactly helpin',” he admitted, and he felt her body pull a fraction away from him before he began again, “S' okay. This is more than I could'a hoped for. You ain't gotta worry. Much as I wouldn' mind seein' more of you, don't wantcha feelin' uncomfortable neither. Ain't gonna do nothin' to you that you don't want me to.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You're so soft...wanna feel all of you...wanna taste all of you,” Clyde mumbled, eyes closed, deep asleep, lying in a soft bed that was not his own. Even with the guarantee that sex was off the table, he'd taken her up on her offer to sleep over without a moment of hesitation, falling asleep some hours before on his back, his body now on its side with his good arm wrapped securely around the young woman's waist. Perhaps too securely. She'd woken up with an intense need to use the restroom, as one does at 4 in the morning, and he had her so tightly in his embrace that she feared she might wake him in her bid to escape. Much as the nocturnal words he whispered had enticed her to stay...she had to go, damnit.

“Clyde...” she whispered as she carefully lifted his heavy arm from her waist, but he just mumbled something incoherent and dragged her even closer. “Clyde, I have to go,” the whispered again, more insistent.

“Stay,” he sighed, and she took the opportunity of his arm loosening slightly to slide out of the bed, straightening her remaining clothes and taking the quietest steps she could manage as she departed the room. By the time she'd returned, he'd managed to claim her pillow in her absence, clutching it the way he had with her body, both arms around it now, what little light entering the room from outside highlighting his lack of a left hand. Silent as she could manage, she stepped closer to the bed, reaching out for the pillow as Clyde's tired eyes opened at the feel of the plush object being dragged from his grip. “What time is it,” he whispered drowsily, releasing the pillow and reaching his arms toward her instead.

“It's either really late, or really early,” she whispered, sliding into bed and his welcoming embrace. All he managed was an 'Mmm' in response, a barely audible whimper escaping him as her body shifted in his arms, seeking the most comfortable position and rubbing against the crotch of his underwear, already a little disrupted in shape from his eventful dream.

“Sorry,” he admitted sheepishly as her body became immediately still, his body drawing back from hers to create room between them below their waists.

“It's okay,” he heard her whisper back, “You know, it's not that I don't...want to, I just wasn't exactly prepared and I don't have...any protection. I'm guessing you didn't bring anything,” he shook his head in response.

“I wouldn't want you thinkin' I was expectin' that,” he answered, closing his eyes when he felt her press slowly into his body again, her curves pressed against the rigidness between his thighs. “We could do...other stuff, if you like,” Clyde managed, dipping his nose into her hair to breathe in the faint scent of her shampoo. “Only if you want to,” he emphasized when she didn't respond as quickly as he expected, and he loosened his arms as he felt her turn in his embrace to face him. Clyde's dark eyes closed against the darker room as she reached up to run her fingers through his thick mane of hair, and cautiously closed the distance between them when she applied the slightest pressure. “You're so soft,” he whispered against her lips between kisses, more urgent with every touch, “you feel so good against me.” As she parted her lips against his mouth, encouraging him, Clyde tilted his head more and slid his fingers from the middle of her back up to gently grip a handful of her hair, delving inside her mouth with his tongue, consuming her whimpers as his reward. When she finally pulled away, her breathing was heavy, and as Clyde drew closer almost instantly, she whispered his name as she pressed her fingertips to his chest.

“Clyde...” she breathed, and he finally opened his eyes to stare into hers in the dark. “Clyde, um...this is going to sound weird but...stick out your tongue.” Clyde's thick, dark brows knitted together, but he did as he was asked, pressing his tongue into the air and curling the tip as he felt her drag her finger down the length of it. “Jesus,” she whispered, and before he could respond, her hands were gliding through his hair again, “that's practically obscene. Is there any part of you that isn't...” when she trailed off he pulled back a little, his grip in her hair easing.

“Any part of me that isn't what?”

“Big doesn't seem like the right word,” she whispered, and the corners of his lips quirked up, “...oversized, maybe?”

“How's that?” he inquired, smiling as his large hand abandoned her hair, his fingertips trailing down her spine faintly, the barrier of her tank top feeling especially thin and insignificant.

“Well, you know...you're so tall, and your hand is so...” she paused as his hand finally dipped down to her ass, gripping her and guiding her hips forward to press her against him there, “...and a girl could fantasize about that tongue alone.”

Gathering up his courage, Clyde's fingers found the bottom hem or her panties, carefully sliding his fingers under the fabric, the tips of his nails grazing her skin as he did so. “If I promise to be good...can we take these off?” He listened to her exhale of breath and leaned in to claim her lips again as he tugged gently at the fabric he gripped. To his relief and excitement, he felt her slender fingers graze his sizable ones as she reached down to work her panties down her thighs, over the length of her legs, finally tossing them somewhere unknown. His large hand found her bare thigh, hip, the texture of neatly trimmed hair, and he paused. “Is this okay? Can I...” She met his lips, her kiss tender and needy as her hand found his and she guided it to where she needed him most.

* * *

“Mornin',” Clyde greeted the woman in his arms as her eyes opened slowly to a new day, her face nestled against his chest.

“Sure is,” she mumbled as she dragged the sheets up above her head in a weak attempt to block out the sun. Clyde's lips curved into a smile as he tightened his arm that clutched her to him and dipped down to rest his chin lightly on top of her head.

“Guess you have'ta work today,” his voice sounded a little sad, and he felt the body pressed against him pull in even closer.

“I don't have a set time to start, but...I'm sure I've got emails piling up.”

“Don't guess I could hang around with you then,” Clyde ventured. He didn't exactly want to leave, it felt too damned nice feeling her pressed up so close to him, so soft and warm and nearly naked.

“I'd love to say yes,” she admitted as she peeked her head up above the sheets to look into his warm honey eyes, “but you would definitely be a distraction. I don't know how much work I could reasonably get done with tall, dark and handsome hanging around my house.”

“I don' know 'bout all that,” he returned, the faintest hint of a blush warming his cheeks. As his vision drifted past her, he caught sight of what remained of his left arm, and his smile diminished almost instantly. He'd almost forgotten about it, and here is was, mocking him in the bright light of day. The shift in mood wasn't lost on his bed mate, and he felt slender fingers carefully grasp his chin and guide his vision back to her.

“You really have no idea, do you,” she whispered as her hand drifted gently up the side of his face to push back the thick, dark tresses that threatened to obscure his view. His dark eyes trained on her, he watched and shifted his body as she did her own, and found his back pressed flush against the soft mattress as she maneuvered her body on top of his and settled herself over his hips to straddle him. Without breaking eyes contact, she reached out in the direction of his maimed arm and grasped just below his elbow before he could drag it out of reach. “This,” she indicated, still holding his gaze, her hand clutching his arm far enough away from the beginning of his healed wound to keep him from fighting her careful grip, “does not bother me. I know I've already said it, but I'll keep saying it if I have to, until you believe me. Do you think I would be here with you, like this, if I was put off by it?” Clyde's remaining hand found her hip, bare below the edge of the tank top she wore, and glided his hand up her back to guide her back down to him, pressing light kisses to her lips that increased with fervor as he felt her start to work her hips against him. With an increased grip on her hip, he pulled away enough to speak.

“I believe you...and I gotta admit, last night was...” his eyes closed as she ground against him and he felt her sweet essence dampen the trail of hair that disappeared under the waistband of his boxer-briefs, “but I don't know how much more of this teasin' I can take, knowin' I can't do what I wanna do. It's torture, girl.”

“I know,” she admitted, closing the distance between them again to claim his lips once more. “I think I'm gonna go remedy that today.” When she looked to his eyes again, his brows were knitted together in confusion.

“Whatchu mean, remedy it?”

“Don't worry about it,” she said dismissively, rising a little to create some space between them. “So what are you doing today, anyway?”

Clyde still felt a little lost, but he allowed himself to be distracted. “Gonna go see Mel, so she can trim my hair and my nails. Sound's kinda girly, but I can't exactly do it myself.”

“Mel...as in your sister?” he nodded casually In response. “Does she ever try to paint your nails?” she inquired, a smile returning to her lips.

“Almost every damned time,” he sighed.

“What time?” she asked, and Clyde looked to the side table for his phone. “No, what time is your appointment?”

“Oh, umm...I dunno, like five or six, I guess? 'Bout the time the shop closes, 'fore I go to work too.”

“Well...maybe I'll shut my computer down a little early and meet you there.”

* * *

“Mel, you keep tryin' to cut my hair short, I'm gonna start goin' to someone else,” Clyde huffed as he watched his sister's reflection, keeping a careful watch of how much of his thick mane of dark hair she snipped off.

“Just thought you might like to look presentable for your new girlfriend,” she sighed as she worked along the damp ends of the strands held taut between her fingers.

“I think she likes it how it is,” Clyde mumbled, reaching behind his head to judge the length in his large hand.

“Would you stop touchin' it, I'm not gonna cut it too short,” Mellie insisted. “Clyde, stop movin', you're like a child.”

Clyde looked around defiantly at the sound of the door opening, his vision falling on the young woman he'd woken up next to that morning, looking more than a little anxious. Before Mellie could mistake her for a customer, Clyde reached out his prosthetic hand in her direction, beckoning her over. An uncharacteristic smile pulled at his lips when she stepped toward him, examining his incomplete limb thoughtfully, before carefully wrapping her fingers around what she could of his bicep. When Clyde introduced her without a hint of hesitation, she looked up to meet Mellie's gaze, relieved to see warmth and sweetness in her face instead of the brother-protecting defensiveness she'd nervously anticipated. Mellie surprised her, and Clyde, even more when she laid down the scissors and reached out to pull her into a hug she might bestow on a close friend.

“It's real nice to meet you,” Mellie said as she drew back, placing a hand on Clyde's right shoulder. “Clyde's been going on and on about you.” The young woman's eyes fell to Clyde's face, his head leaned forward so his hair created a dark curtain to obscure his flushed features.

* * *

“Sorry 'bout this, it ain't exactly how I pictured our first dinner date,” Clyde confessed as he stared down at the burger clutched in his hand. He'd hoped to have more time with the young woman across the booth from him, but as soon as Mellie had started conversing with her, Clyde had been strucken with instant regret over the whole incident. “If I'd known Mel was going to spend the afternoon embarrassin' me-”

“It's delicious,” she answered almost casually, and he looked up to a calm smile gracing her lips, her food untouched. “You don't need to try to impress me with lavish dinners and overflowing bouquets...and meeting your sister went a lot better than I thought it would. To be honest, I was kind of afraid it was going to be a lot more intense.” When she looked up from the table to see Clyde's confused eyes, his mouth full and paused mid-chew, she laughed softly, and Clyde's jaw started moving again slowly. “I thought she might be the over-protective type. I already went through enough discomfort today, so I'm honestly just happy it went well.”

Clyde swallowed down his food and took a quick swig of the sweet tea before him, before he began to speak. “Did I...make you uncomfortable this mornin'?” he asked cautiously, keeping his eyes trained on her face.

“Did you...no! No, nothing to do with you...well, sort of to do with you, um...” she looked away from him and started scrambling through her bag beside her, finally pulling out a rectangle of cardboard, lines of tiny pills encapsulated in plastic hills across it. “I told you I was going to take care of our...little problem,” she finished, slipping the birth control pills back into her purse.

Clyde placed his burger down on the waxy wrapper and rubbed his hand against a napkin before reaching across the table to gently grasp hers. “I hope I didn' make you feel like you had to do that. I know that whole lady doctor thing is s'posed to be pretty uncomfortable.”

“There are worse things, I promise,” she answered thoughtfully as she stroked his knuckles with the pad of her thumb. “Better to get it out of the way than worry about potential accidents.”

“I just want you to know, it don't bother me to use a condom,” Clyde whispered as he leaned closer.

Her eyes stayed trained on the large hand that swallowed hers before lifting her eyes to his, and Clyde again felt his face flush, though not from embarrassment. “I told you last night,” she whispered as quietly as he had, ”I don't want there to be barriers between us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos are great, comments give me life! I hope you will stick around for the rest of the story :)
> 
> Title borrowed from the song of the same name by Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band.


End file.
